Darkness Brings Light
by FictionPanther
Summary: The Avari are the race of dark elves. They stayed hidden away from most for eons, till the battle of the Last Alliance. Now history with the Elvenking and needing to help guide Thorin and company, they are entangled along with their secrets into the future of middle earth and Sauron. ThranduilxOFC, KilixOFC, ThorinxOFC, LegolasxTauriel
1. Chapter 1

She knew the day would come too soon. In the life of elves, years passed as minutes but she still didn't let herself believe that it would be so swiftly. She knew when they announced Mithrandir's arrival that everything was going to change. Her bare feet padded softly against the stone halls as she and her younger sister made their way towards the throne room.

When they entered, her brother's look was tense as he listened to Gandalf speak. She and her sister exchanged a look, and then she turned moving towards her twin, who sat on the throne.

"Mithrandir? It has been a while," Alyra said, stepping up the stairs and standing next to her brother. She rested her hand on his arm and glanced at him to reassure him she was there to support whatever news was being delivered.

Gandalf bowed his head to the princess and smiled, but it was solemn and did not reach his eyes. "Alyra, you are still your mother's image." He turned, looking to their younger sister and bowed to her as well. "Syral."

Their brother brought back the conversation, placing his hand on his Alyra's, where it rested on his arm. "Gandalf you must tell her."

Alyra's brow furrowed and glanced at her brother, and then to her sister, Syral.

Gandalf sighed. "I have to go face the unknown Necromancer at Dol Guldor. Something is going on, unseen even to Lady Galadriel. I set Thorin Oakensheild and his company on its way through Mirkwood. I instructed them to stay on the Elven road."

Syral and Alyra shook their heads, knowing where this might be going and let echoed Gandalf's sigh. "They strayed from the path," Syral finished for him.

Gandalf took a deep breath and nodded. "I know you sent Maeman with them, but even she couldn't keep them from straying and she stayed with them. They were captured, and for whatever reason deemed in his fancy that day, Thranduil threw them in the dungeons, including Maeman."

Alyra stiffened and her jaw clenched as her twin took her hand in his as comfort. "What?! He imprisoned Maeman as well? Someone he has known for _eons!_ Someone who has fought with and for him?" She practically snarled and as Gandalf nodded, she took a staggering breath in to try and calm the rage.

"Alyra we have to go," Syral said gently to her sister, trying not to provoke her anymore.

Alyra looked to Syral and nodded. "Yes we do"

Gandalf held up his hand to garner their attention and turned his gaze to Aliyan.

"We think it might be part of the reason he did what he did," Aliyan said, looking to his twin.

Alyra glanced to her brother and Gandalf, pulling her lips in a menacing line. "He wants my attention, he wants answers. Well, he shall have his wish granted. He shall see me again and my troops, and my temper," she seethed.

"Alyra, my dear, can you blame him after what you have done, what has happened between you two?" Gandalf tried to reason with her. "Things that he was not even allowed to know or remember," he added gently.

Syral came to stand by her sister to support her. She might not have understood her reasons, but she respected them after knowing Thranduil so long.

Alyra took her other sibling's hand and her gaze fell to the floor, her rage calming some, knowing that Gandalf was right. "I know. I did what I had to, Mithrandir. The Avari are not like the rest of our kin and I have known Thranduil too long. I knew the outcome, I couldn't risk it with our lineage, anyway." She shook her head.

Gandalf smiled gently. "I have learned well lately that we never truly know the whole outcome. Have some faith, my dear."

Alyra raised her chin, inhaling. "I have always held my hope of what he could be, but the faith in him faltered many years ago," she answered their dear old friend. "I will go help Thorin." She turned to her brother. "Be ready. I will send word if I need more help. Take care of them." Her twin nodded.

Syral stepped forward then, resting her hand on Gandalf's arm. "Will you be safe going to Dol Guldor alone?" she asked, concerned.

Gandalf smiled and patted her hand. "I have someone to call upon, if needed. Worry not, my friend."

The girls nodded at his reply and then began to prepare for their journey, rallying the troops they would take with them. They knew they would have to leave them at the border just in case and hide them so Thranduil would be unaware that they had brought so many. She might be able to get them out without a fight, then shook her head. No Alyra knew better concerning the Elven king.

Night had fallen over the woods once more. He had attended dinner with his son. Legolas was still unhappy over the fact that they had imprisoned Maeman, that they had thrown their own kin into the dungeons. He had reasons; though he only gave one, there were a few. The others he kept to himself. He was suspect to believe that his son knew the others.

Alyra.

Alyra would return; he knew word would reach her, wherever she may be. Whether Aliyan or Syral, maybe Alyra herself had sent Maeman with the Dwarves, they knew of the quest and that they would pass through his realm. They sent Maeman, hoping to gain safe passage—he had gathered that much. Aliyan and Alyra thought of everything in battle tactics, not unlike himself. Warriors did that, and they were commanders and nobility.

He had been there for Alyian and Alyra's crowning when their father had sailed after the battle of the Last Alliance. They were two halves of a whole—twins. Closer than any, and very protective of their younger sibling, Syral, who was only their half-sister.

The Avari or 'the unwilling', the dark elves, were an odd race compared to the rest of their kin. Thranduil had learned that quickly when they met, planning for the war of the Last Alliance. They had poured forth from the woods of Rhun and Fangorn to train and help fight Sauron's forces. They were warriors that rivaled the Woodland realm; his warriors were only as good as they were due to the centuries they spent training with the Avari. They exceeded even Elrond with healing, and they had trained him in that. Those were their strengths. They had drawbacks, though—quite a few. One of them being their need for secrets, to remain a mystery. They spoke in riddles that nearly rivaled Mithrander.

Their need to increase their numbers led to many not marrying but taking many partners and bearing children, except the nobility. Aliyan, Alyra, and Syral did not because their line had to be pure. As with any royal lineage, they could not have bastards everywhere. The king of the Avari had remarried, when the majority of elves did not. With his second wife came Syral. If Alyra and Aliyan had no children or perished, it would fall to Syral to run their realm. If either of the twins did have children, Syral would be out of the running—not that she had seemed to ever mind.

Avari were many things; some things he still did not understand, such as what had brought about their departure from his realm. They had practically just disappeared, yet he knew they had been to other places in Middle Earth since then and shared in things during that time. He had missed Alyra. She had practically raised Legolas after the death of his wife in Angmar, had been with him nearly sixteen hundred years, and then she'd simply vanished. Legolas had been far more understanding than he had. He'd never understood how; she had been like a mother to him. Syral had trained Taurial and she, along with Alyra, had become great friends.

The king of the Woodland Realm looked at his goblet of wine, the Dorwinion he had grown to love too much and sighed, but gave a small strained smile. She would be as angry and fiery as a Balrog if she showed up and he was certain that she would. Yet, it wasn't a fight he hadn't had with her before. Their tempers were too alike sometimes, whereas her brother had the patience of Elrond, Alyra had the same fire and ill temperament that he did. How they became such good friends was astonishing, yet most of the time, it was a love-hate bond. He took a drink from his glass and set it down, looking back out his balcony.


	2. Chapter 2

Alyra and her sister followed about twenty guards, who seemed to appear out of thin air, as they walked the bridge to the gate and they looked very displeased. Their eyes were dead set, weapons strapped on shrouded in their black uniforms of warriors, the circlet on Alyra's head showing her station. Syral had opted not to wear one. Alyra knew she would need the power play while handling Thranduil.

Elros flinched, spotting the menacing guard behind the two, and looked to Alyra as she stopped to look him dead in the eye. "Where is that creature you call a king?" she said in a hard tone. "Let me guess on his royal throne, his safety net," she answered her own question as she walked in, leaving Elros was stunned and unable to do anything.

Syral knew her sister was fit to be tied. The king was playing on her loyalty and Alyra knew it. Alyra waited until she was in range of the throne, seeing it from a distance and her eyes landed on him. "Thranduil!" she shouted and continued around the causeways to his royal chair.

Her guard was stopped as she and Syral made their way towards the platform and her eyes narrowed, and she confidently ascended the stairs to face him.

Thranduil swung his head to her voice when he heard it reverberate through the caves. He watched and smiled like a hawk as she approached. With every step she took, he felt her more and more, as well as her anger. He sat nonchalant, expecting her arrival and smirking— he knew he had won this round.

She pursed her lips, quirking her eyebrow in reply. "Where is Maeman? Tell me why you would imprison your own kin?" she questioned him.

He glanced down, and then back to her. "Well she was found with thieves and liars running wild in my forest," he replied simply.

Alyra lowered her head, trying to take a deep breath, and then just her eyes flew up to his. "You have known her since the Battle of Dagorlad. She has trained your warriors, helped birth elflings in your realm. We all have!" She tossed her arm around, gesturing towards Syral, who continued to glare. "How could you think such a thing? Has that metal mind of yours forgotten loyalty of your kin?"

The king narrowed his own gaze at her words and stood. "I was to presume you had no loyalties here anymore, Alyra. Since your abrupt disappearance from my realm centuries ago and not a word from any of you since." His voice was low and cold as he then turned to descend the stairs of his throne.

Alyra glanced at Syral and turned to the guard. "Take my sister to Maeman so she can see and check on her," she demanded and dared them not to comply as they glanced at their king. Thranduil nodded, allowing it. Syral bowed her head and gave a reassuring look to her sister before heading to the dungeons.

Alyra whirled on Thranduil. "I am no fool. I know you did this to bring me here. What do you want?" she snapped in defiance, trying to be stronger than she felt, being in his presence for the first time in so long. She remembered the last time she had been that close to him, how close they used to be. They had been friends ever since the Last Alliance, close confidants. She had been the only one who could reach him in his grief over his wife and father, as well as in raising Legolas. He had been there when her father sailed, as he always had been, despite his callous approaches at times. She watched him turn into the elf before her right then. She refused to back down; she had too much she had to keep to herself and protect.

He tilted his head, looking at her brow drew together. "What do I want?" he questioned gently, and then took a quick step into her space, coming nose to nose with her. "I want answers as to why the closest person to me, one of very few I trusted, disappeared suddenly with no cause I am aware of."

The Avari princess stiffened her spine, eye to eye with him, something not many could do, and he had always admired her for it. "I will not do this with you right now, Thranduil, you are hindering events that need to take place. Let the company go," she stated sternly.

"It is interesting that you know of Oakenshield and his quest. Yet, that's why you sent Maeman, expecting I would let them through. Well done." He cocked that perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Alyra opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted. "Alyra!" She turned to see Legolas, who wore a huge handsome grin, moving towards her.

" Legolas?" she questioned. She could not believe how much he looked like his father. She rushed for him and they embraced in a tight hug, Legolas lifting her slightly off the floor.

"By Eru, look at you." She cupped his face, smiling and trying to quell the moisture in her eyes. She had missed him so much. She had thought of him as her own, as she had helped raise and train him.

Legolas looked to his father and saw the ghost of a smile on his lips at his reunion with Alyra. "I presumed you would hear. He would not listen to me." He shook his head, looking back at her.

"Because he listens to no one, and uses everyone and everything for his own ends," Alyra replied.

Thranduil clenched his jaw his hand fisting lightly. "I am right here, and I am the king. Do not speak of me in such a way," he snapped.

She looked at him wryly and then back to Legolas. "Come, we can catch up. Then I will deal with him." She swept her robe behind her and walked away with her arm in Legolas'.

Thranduil's gaze narrowed; she always knew how to prickle him into rage. He would not deny his son, though. Legolas had missed her nearly as much as he had.

Syral made her way with the guard down the stairs until she saw Maeman and rushed to the door. "My friend, how are you?" she asked quickly, looking her over.

Maeman smiled, moving quickly over to her friend and gripping her hand. She unfortunately knew why she was imprisoned and that Alyra would show. "I am fine. Tell me she did not come with you." She shook her head gently.

Syral looked down and nodded. "You know she would not leave you here, or Thorin, for that matter."

Maeman sighed before they were interrupted. "Oi! Who are you?" Bofur asked, looking out his cell.

Syral looked around and backed up pushing her hood off and smiled. "I, master dwarves, am the princess Syral of the Avari, and we have come to get you out of here."

"Well I'll be." Balin sighed gently. "There are more of you. We thought you just a legend, a myth."

Syral laughed gently. "No, master dwarf, we are real, and we will aid you as much as we can. My sister is upstairs, trying to handle her old friend-enemy, Thranduil. If anyone will succeed, it will be her. If not, well, she will find a way." She winked at the two young dwarves who were staring at her.

"Yer sister? Just what we need more Elves," Dwalin growled under his breath.

"They are here to help us, brother," Balin reprimanded him.

"Wait, did ye say your sister?" Bofur said.

"She did." Maeman grinned.

"You mean the princesses of the Avari? Are here to help us?" Thorin asked cautiously.

"Yes, your majesty." They heard a voice to the left and looked up to a dark beautiful elleth on a cliff, overlooking their cells. She was clad in all black leathers and suedes, and carried an arsenal. A bow and quiver of arrows on her back, two daggers strapped to her outer thighs, and a sword on her side. She had long black hair—

no, not black. It was like midnight; so black, it was blue. Her eyes were a bright green, like a peridot, they noted. She was lithe, but showed some slight musculature that most elves didn't have. Her steps down to them were soft, unheard and graceful.

She stood now in front of the cells her hands clasped behind her. "Our brother, Aliyan, is my twin brother and king of the Avari. He is also awaiting any word from me. If needed, we have more aid waiting with him."

"Alyra, you should not have come. Too much is at stake," Maeman told her friend. Her friend just raised her hand to ward off her worry.

"I left Legolas and I perturbed Thranduil, so I must return. I just wanted to make sure you all were all right. Give me a little time. I will get you out of here, with or without his consent." She looked at the dwarves as she went back up the stairs and cocked her eyebrow at them in a knowing gesture. They smiled, their spirits renewed, and that was the whole point—give them hope, and then deal with the rest.

"Wow, you Avari are, unusual," Kili said softly.

Syral turned to him and walked to his door. "How is that?"

He shrugged, slightly flustered by her being so close and looking at him for an answer. "Well, I mean, you came to help us, when you owe us nothing. You're beautiful, and if your anything like Maeman, you're an excellent fighter, and willing to go against your kin to help us."

He looked at the elf in front of him. Where her sister seemed to have dark beauty, this one was a beautiful flame. She had deep, rich dark red hair that held a design of braids to keep it from her face. Her weapons were much like her sisters, but she carried no sword. She liked to kill closely it seemed, with daggers strapped to her hips. Her eyes were as sparkling as sapphires and her skin seemed to shimmer in the light. She was tall and lithe as well, yet held all the delicate curves he never thought he would favor. She wore no circlet on her head of her station, yet you could almost tell the royal blood in her veins, much unlike could be seen in himself.

Syral nodded. "Thranduil will get his due. Make no mistake, you are here because it served a purpose for him. I am sorry for that, so we do owe you help. The rest, well, I thank you." She reached out, touching his hand gently. Kili's lips parted slightly as her warmth and a surge ran up his arm that made him shiver, and not in a horrible way.


	3. Chapter 3

Syral walked down the steps after she had removed her weapons. Her eyes scanned around as everyone ran around, readying for the festivities that night it; was _Mereth en Gillieth_. Woodelves always loved the starlight, whereas the dark elves loved the moonlight. It was much like them. Brilliant, bright, large. Yet it was a blank white, a faraway cold light, as brilliant as it might have been. It was much like them; they had lived solitary for so long, and then came into the world. She sighed— things then began to change, mingling with the peoples of middle-earth had made them more lonely it seemed.

Of course, that could have just been her bloodline. Her head lowered, shaking slightly. The dark festered in them, and besides the liege bond of king and vassal, or the familial bond, Avari cut all bonds, shut down their hearts to the romantics of life. Their life depended too much on making sure there were more dark elves. They were a race of few to begin with and had to procreate not for love, but security. It was so unlike all their other kin. However, the royal bloodline did not, especially with their bad blood, quite literally almost.

She and her siblings could find love and marry, but wouldn't. They knew the risks. She stopped leaning against the wall, yet the three learned the Valar already had other plans for them. She thought of her sister and the risk she undertaken in going there. Syral's eyes closed and knew that the situation was bad, and no matter how hard they tried, the truth would come out. The slight glow Maeman had, the flutter she felt when she touched that dwarf, and the tremble in Alyra's hand before gripping her sword to hide it in front of Thranduil. She rubbed her eyes tiredly; their fates were tied into the quest and maybe more. She knew that now and glanced down again begging the Valar to know what they were doing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her sister standing by her side suddenly. The elder sibling to her hand. "Are you all right, Syral?"

Syral smiled. "Of course."

Alyra looked at her for a moment, but let it go. " Remember the plan. I am going to speak with that stubborn king. If that doesn't work, at dawn…" was all she said.

Syral understood and nodded, and gently held her sister's hand tighter. "Watch your words to him," she warned, the concern clear in her eyes.

Alyra nodded and smiled, tucking a stray hair into her braid. "I am aware. I know what's at risk." She kissed her forehead and walked away.

Alyra was walking to Thranduil's rooms when she spotted him. He was in the hall as she heard the king's voice speaking to Tauriel, she recognized. His appearance was odd. It was muted and fuzzy, almost like a pencil drawing, and she felt the warmth on her hand. She looked down to her fingers, and then her eyes snapped back to the figure. She cautiously stepped towards him and listened to the conversation, putting a hand over his mouth as she gently gripped his arm and held a finger to her lips. She quickly and silently pulled him back into an alcove once they heard the conversation between Tauriel and Thranduil. She wasn't happy about it. Yet, one problem at a time. They stayed in the darkened corner until she passed and was far enough away. Her eyes met Bilbo's and did something she hadn't done since the defeat of Sauron.

" _Who are you? Are you part of Thorin' Oakenshield's Company?" she prodded the words into Bilbo's mind. He looked utterly shocked. He was befuddled as it was that she could see him._

" _Well, Ye-Yes I am. How is it you can see me when no one else can?" he asked lowering his brows in confusion._

 _She shook her head. Now is not the time for that. I can explain later. Right now, I have a plan to get your friends out of here, if the king won't listen to reason. I fear I am part of the reason you are here. For that, I am sorry. It is lucky that I happened upon you." She smiled gently._

" _How? I have been hunting for a way out and a plan for weeks. Yet, getting twelve loud, stubborn dwarves out of here will be no easy thing," he replied with a sigh. "Wait, how are we communicating like this?" he asked suddenly._

 _She glanced down at the ring on his finger and her eyes narrowed. "It's the ring. It's best you don't know everything right now. Just know, you can communicate with me like this, even at great distance and I can track you with it. Invisible or not." she replied, very careful with the information she gave him; that ring made her tremble in a horrible, cold way._

 _Bilbo looked at the ring and then his eyes glanced back to her, and once again, he felt the bad omen of the token he had found in the Goblin tunnels. He nodded, deciding that moment was not the time to press anything; he needed to get his friends out. "So what's your plan… I'm sorry what's your name?" He tilted his head thoughtfully._

 _Alyra tilted hers as well, smiling. "Alyra, I am here with some guards and my sister, Syral. We are Avari and came to get Maeman, along with the others, out of the dungeons here. Thranduil is a beast I have outwitted before and can again."_

" _You're the Princesses. I remember Maeman telling us about you. It's an honor to have your support and help. You are on first name terms with the Elven king?" He cocked an eyebrow._

 _Alyra chuckled in his head. "I have called him many names over the centuries, little one, and I assure you, not all of them were good. Now, there is a grand feast tonight, and woodelves love their wine on any given day, yet especially on festive occasions. By dawn, I will make sure there are twelve barrels in the cellar." She cocked an eyebrow at him._

 _Bilbo looked perplexed at her as she continued to explain._

Thranduil sat in the chair behind his table and poured another glass of wine. Having his wish fulfilled had brought him no answers. He could sense her, yet still did not see her again after the throne room. She was lurking somewhere close. She liked to lurk, to calculate when to strike, just like those spiders invading his forest and he invited another in, Alyra. He sat back in the chair heavily and took a drink from his glass.

"Brooding always was one of your favorite pastimes when you were alone," her voice spoke as she slowly walked into the room. He lifted his gaze and met hers. She had taken off her weapons— well, at least for appearance. Avari were never without a weapon. He was sure there was at least a dagger hidden somewhere, her long cloak discarded. He stood and walked towards her, her stoic posture gave nothing away; her face an impossible mask, much like the one he favored. She was still beautiful, flawless he always believed. She was his Black Diamond, as he had always called her. His most cherished friend and confidant.

"Still flawless," he said gently, his eyes raking in her features to be sure and raised his hand to trace his fingers along her jaw. She flinched and turned her head away from the gesture. Thranduil's expression hardened in frustration. What had happened to them? It had driven him mad for hundreds of years, trying to figure out her disappearance, and apparently, by her reaction, he had been right. It had something to do with him. His mind was unbelievably blank, though. He was an elf, he had a memory with longevity, yet the days surrounding her disappearance were blank.

"Why did you leave?" He schooled his voice to be even and controlled, which he wasn't feeling inside.

Alyra glanced at him and made a conscious effort to not react or move a muscle. He would pick up on that. She breathed in deeply and exhaled evenly, though her insides trembled, knowing her response to his touch and closeness was reaction, yet it gave him tons of insight.

She shook her head, folding her arms. "That is not the issue we need to resolve. You have my kin in the dungeon. You need to let them go. You know very well they did nothing wrong." Her head shook to make her point.

Thranduil glanced at her stance; she had folded her arms. It was protective. She was protecting herself from something, and from him. She had shifted slightly on her foot and stepped back, putting her weight on that leg so she could lean back, to put more distance between them. Were all those years not enough distance hiding herself away? He tilted his head and began walking around her. "Is it not the issue? Since it has caused me to imprison my own kin. For that is the only way you would present yourself to me?"

Alyra knew he was trying to bait her. She mantraed; she had to stay calm. "Are you really just upset that I did not ask your permission to leave? Is that it?" She turned to look at him.

Thranduil stepped right into her. "Do not patronize me, Alyra." His eyes bore into hers. "If you had asked to leave, I would have allowed it. You disappeared. There are different causes."

Alyra's eyes narrowed. "I will tell you one last time, dear Elven king. Release them." She turned in an attempt to step away from him. He was too close. Yet, he was also fast. He gripped her arm to stop her, and in reaction, she reached for her side. He swiftly gripped that wrist and held it behind her back. He knew now where the hidden weapon was. He let go of her arm, watching her eyes as his hand went to her side, sliding up the leather-like corset she wore over her top and felt it. His fingers slipped between the leather and her shirt and pulled out the dagger. His eyes never left her, and as much as she stonewalled against him, he saw the flicker of fear them. He didn't understand what she feared. It surely could not be him. She had never feared him. She didn't fear much. Therefore, his confusion grew. What was going on with her? What didn't he know?

He looked at the dagger and a slight smile quirked his lips. "Going to cut down the king with the gift he gave you?" he asked glancing up at her.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled, trying to steel her nerves more. "You know I always carry that dagger on me. You did that on purpose. Now let me go," she growled, jerking out of his hold and exhaled, relieved when he released her.

"Of course, I did." He walked over grabbing his glass of wine. "I know you always have a weapon hidden. I just needed you show me where." He quirked an eyebrow with a smirk and set the dagger on his table. Alyra wanted to grind her teeth in annoyance.

"Now why don't you tell about your disappearance and I shall let the dwarves and Maeman go," he said simply, bringing his glass to his lips.

"I had things that called for my and Aliyan's attention in our home," she countered, putting her hands on her hips.

Thranduil looked at her blandly. "You're lying," he said simply, bringing his glass towards his lips again. She was in a stance that wasn't her usual sarcastic or attitude throwing one. It was in defense, preparing to fight her argument. She was being defensive because she was being untruthful. He could read so much of her so easily; why could he not get his answers?

His thoughts stopped when she stepped forward and smacked the glass from his hands. "So are you," she spat coldly. "You have no intention of letting them go. Not only to spite me, but I know you want those blessed jewels. I do not need to guess that Thorin told you he wouldn't give them to you. After the way you treated his people, I do not blame him. You've turned into a cold creature, Thranduil."

He looked at her as she turned and began to leave. She was distracting him. Even though her words did strike a chord, which was their intent. She was stooping to distraction to bait him into a different thought. Clever, yet he was not falling for the trap. He was behind her in an instant and gripped her arms, pulling her back to him.

"I will not let you go again. I will have my answers, my dear. I know you. I see your fear of something. I can see through the facade you are putting on to be yourself around me. I know something happened. I know it has something to do with me," he spoke softly in his deep baritone into the hair behind her ear. He inhaled her scent and closed his eyes. It made him feel alive to have her so close, to hear her, to smell her, to feel her, know she is alive, she is real again. "Yet oddly enough," he sighed, his breath brushing her ear. "I don't remember the days surrounding your disappearance. Strange, that I am aware only Galadriel and your brother have that power. I will find out what you did." His nose nuzzled her hair. She was stiff in his hold by the end of it.

Alyra closed her eyes, steadying her heartbeat and breathing. Her posture was rigid, though, and that gave her away. "Of course there is the possibility that you immersed yourself in too much festivity, as you do on occasion. That could explain your lack of memory." She knew she was foolishly grabbing at air.

Thranduil whirled her around, grabbing her jaw firmly in his hand so she had to look at him. "Do not think to keep giving me foolish excuses."

"You are so quick to blame me. Maybe it was you." She shook him off, those words struck him. "Maybe I am saving you from a mistake," she replied softly, which she believed she was doing most of it for him. She turned and walked away. Plan B it would be, because the king was not going to let them go.

Thranduil stood there a moment after she left quickly. With his thoughts swirling, he moved to sit down. Could he have done something? He swore he wouldn't after the guilt he felt over his wife when she passed. He rubbed his hand over his chest, over his heart when he once again tried to think of those two days. It was that day, exactly 1,547 years ago. For so long, he agonized over it; she didn't realize. She was one person who could actually would him so deeply. Hurt him more than any other. She had her brother wipe his memories, he knew that. But why? What had happened? A fight? Had he truly consumed too much wine and betrayed his secrets? Had she done something? The questions were driving him mad, with no answers. He continued to try rubbing out the pain and hollow feeling in his chest that always took hold when he tried to think of those days. He exhaled heavily, resting his head in his hand on the armrest.

He knew one thing was true. He would not let her leave; he would get his answers first. He could not endure the pain without his friend anymore.

Syral decided to take a walk to check on the dwarves and Maeman while the festivities went on. She didn't feel like a celebration. There was too many serious events going on in the world that they were now wrapped up in. She walked down the stairs and saw Kili tossing a small stone up and down in his hand.

She tilted her head looking at him. "The stone in your hand? What is it?" she asked.

He rubbed it in his hands a little looking down then looked at her. "It is a talisman." He watched her turn to him slightly, her attention completely on him now. "A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a dwarf reads the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed." He held out the stone to her.

Syral took a step back, slightly startled, and turned to leave. "Or not," he then said, garnering her attention. "Depending whether you believe that kind of thing. It's just a token." Syral looked at him again and smiled slightly.

"It's just a rune stone." He looked down at it again, running his finger over it. "My mother gave it to me, so I would remember my promise."

Syral continued to smile and stepped towards the cell. "What promise?"

"That I would come back to her. She worries, she thinks I'm reckless." He tossed the stone in the air, catching it and looking at her.

She smirked glancing down then back at him. "Are you?"

He turned to her, grinning and tossing the stone in the air again. "Nah." He didn't catch it, though; it fell and landed outside the cell. Syral stepped on it to stop it from going over the side of the walkway. She picked it up and held it up looking at it. "Sounds like quite a party, they are having up there."

Syral turned to him. "It is _Mereth en Gillieth_ , the Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar, yet woodelves love best the light of the stars," she said, looking up through the caverns to the sky.

He looked at her. "You are not a wood elf, though. Right?" he asked curiously.

She shook her head lightly keeping her gaze up. " No, the Avari are the dark elves. We love the night, yet unlike the stars, we revere the light of the moon. Large, dazzling, white gem, so far away." She raised her hand, as if to touch it.

Kili was thoughtful. "I always thought it was a cold light, remote and far away."

She turned smiling at him. "Starlight is memory, precious and pure. Like your promise." She smiled and gave him back his stone. "Moonlight is history. It is remote. It does not carry the sparkle of the stars. It holds a glow of encompassing everything and reminds us who we are, of our history." She looked back to him. "The Avari are known as the 'the Unwilling'. We are the only Eldar who refused the great journey. We stayed, forging our way and kingdoms in the forest of Rhun, where our Royal house is in Fangorn. We have always lived in the dark, in the light of the moon." She was quiet for a moment thinking, and then smiled at him and turned looking to the sky again. "I have walked there sometimes, beyond the forests and up into the night. Seen that glow fill the sky, encompassing all, and the world falls away. That glow of forever spread over the sky."

He looked at him completely enthralled by this beautiful elleth. She was so intriguing. Learning about this mysterious race of elf. She was an enigma he craved to learn. "I saw a fire moon once," he said and she turned, slightly shocked and listened as he continued. "It rose over the pass near Dunland. Huge, red and gold, it was. It filled the sky."

Syral looked at him, enraptured at his story, and sat on the steps to listen. "We were escorts for some merchants from Erid Luin. They were trading in some silverwork for furs. We took the Greeway south. Keeping the mountain to our left."

Syral listened and talked with him for a few hours, interesting, carefree, and yes, he did seem a little reckless. Yet, tall for a dwarf, dark, handsome. Interesting, he caught her attention and no one had done that before. However, he was a dwarf; surely her interests should lie elsewhere.

Maeman smiled from her cell across the way, knowing she was forgotten for the moment. Yet, that was all right. She smiled wide; they had no real issue with mixed races— it happened. For some reason, that dwarf put a sparkle in her eye. One she was sure Alyra would see in hers. She had grown close to the King Under the Mountain on their journey thus far. Her fate intertwined with his, for some reason. That would remain to be seen, she presumed. Thorin was stubborn, gruff, and loyal to a fault. Yet brave, kind, and a fierce warrior. She respected him and knew she had grown to have feelings for him. She hoped her time would come. War and quests were not the time love or romantic fancies, yet even the Eldar could not control the heart. She glanced at her friend again and laid down to rest, closing her eyes.

Hey everyone. I figured I would let you know. I am gonna put songs up to relate to the different character stories. I love having a soundtrack. Also I am gonna put up a photo board probably on pintrest or tumblr that shows visuals of things so you can see how I saw things or based them off.

 **Fight Song -Rachel Platten-** For Thranduil and Alyra ( Cause their both fighting to take back somthing to prove they can do this )

 **BoomBoom Clap- CharliXCX** \- Kili and Syral

I will let you know when I put up the photo board.


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